


Campus

by theferociousbeast



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Food, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 06:32:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2841440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theferociousbeast/pseuds/theferociousbeast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is running late to class during finals week. He ends up locking his bike to Dean Winchester's, and that kinda makes up for the bad day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Campus

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is part one of a set - the other part is a playlist!   
> http://8tracks.com/magellyn/campus

It isn't Castiel's fault, really.

It's finals week, and the traffic is terrible to match the weather. Though he left the house at the same time as always, he's running late now, and he's not sure if his heavy breathing is a sign of panic or of physical exertion from riding his bike. 

There are a few things wrong with this scenario. The first is the weather. The frigid air is biting at the flesh of Castiel's nose and cheeks, wind threatening to either push him backwards or topple him over into traffic. That's the second one, traffic. As soon as the weather gets bad, it's like everyone on the road forgets how to drive. The third problem is that Cas doesn't really know how to ride a bike. In high school, he was either able to carpool or walk to school. But his university is further away, and after hearing about the things that happen on subways, he decided on another form of transportation.

Castiel has always been a bit cautious, to say the least. The environment he grew up in required him to be as such, and since childhood, he still hasn't strayed far from the _path of righteousness_. So being late to class, especially on a day as important as finals, is almost crippling. 

When he finally rides up to a rack in the lot of his first class, he hurries to lock his bike up without a second thought. He's too late for worrying about anything other than his finals. And _oh god, I think chem is today_.

-

Dean Winchester finishes his final in Automotive – rebuilding an engine – feeling confident and ready for Christmas break. He's leaving the building to claim his bike from the rack when _son of a bitch. Some goddamn fool locked their bike onto mine._

His first instinct is to find a janitor to break the other guy's lock off and ride off home without further delay. But this means leaving someone's bike to get stolen, probably, and then they'd be out a lock _and_ a bike and Sammy told him to work harder on thinking before he acted.

So he stays. For three hours, almost, the length of two finals that he _doesn't_ have. He's sitting on the steps of the auditorium, a gray beanie shielding his hair from the rain, Vonnegut's Cat's Cradle resting in his lap as he leans over to read it.

He looks up whenever he sees someone head to the bike rack, and finally he sees this kid with insane bedhead taking the lock off of his bike and, consequently, Dean's. He's considering giving the guy grief for being such a bother, but his ruffled locks aren't the only thing about him that look tired and just downright miserable and _cute_. 

“Hey, this your bike?” Dean asks as he walks over, startling the guy. He's wearing a denim button-up with a brown, knitted sweater and dark jeans. The outfit doesn't look so rushed, until Dean gets past his ankles and sees a pair of mismatched socks peaking out from his loafers – one with cartoon cats, the other with Christmas trees. At least one of them is sort of forgivable. 

“A-ah....yes, this is my bicycle. I haven't yet reached the level of thievery in which I can guess lock combinations,” the guy replies, and Dean isn't sure if it's a joke or not with how serious his tone is. 

“It was locked up to mine, you know. It's not a problem, but I just wanted to let you know that what you've got here is a mountain bike. Stop me if 'm wrong, but you're not riding this bike in any mountains,” Dean prescribes, doing his part to help the guy out. “See, the tires on this baby are thicker and more durable than on a road bike, because they're meant to be used where there aren't paved roads. These suckers tackle anything from rocks to logs.”

He's vaguely aware that he's being stared at as he's gesturing to the wheels and explaining the differences between a mountain bike and a road bike, so he gets up from his crouched position and wipes his hands on his jeans. The face looking back at him is a mix of impressed and bewildered, and his head is tilted to the side. 

“How do you know all of this information?” He questions, rugged voice still managing to surprise Dean. 

“I work in my Uncle Bobby's shop. We fix up cars, boats, bikes, motorcycles... the whole shebang. Listen, it's not doing you any good to ride this thing out there. The shop's a two minute ride from here, tops. What do you say we head over there, we hook you up, and I'll drive you back home? My car's parked there anyway,” Dean offers, leaning back over to take his own bike from the rack. 

The guy is clearly weighing out the pros and cons, and it's really kind of weird because he's not saying anything or even _blinking_. He's almost made up his mind when he says, “I have been advised to not get in the cars of strangers.” Dean's about ready to tell him to suit himself and leave the guy there, cuz he's about one hundred percent sure that nothing about him is as unsettling as Mr. Monotone over here.

“Look, man, I'm just trying to help you out. It's almost Christmas, and you look pretty beat. I'm Dean, alright? Dean Winchester. Not a stranger anymore,” he replies, offering his hand for the guy to shake. He looks at Dean's hand as if maybe hand shaking is a little too intimate even, or he might get a disease. But then he takes it and grips firmly, accepting Dean's introduction with a strong shake.

“Hello, Dean. My name is Castiel Novak. I appreciate your generous offer.”

-

The shop isn't much warmer than outside, but the coffee maker is gurgling with the sound of a fresh brew, and a pink box of raised doughnuts is sitting on the counter. It smells like tires, sugar, and coffee grounds, and classic rock can be heard playing out in the garage. Though the environment is so different from what Castiel is used to, he still manages to find it comforting in some strange way – the kind of way one with a dysfunctional family must feel when watching Leave It To Beaver. 

Dean is setting Castiel's bike behind the counter, not wanting to risk it rusting out in the garage when the rain seeps in. “C'mon, Cas. I'll take you home now. Place is busy today cuz of all the morons crashing their cars in the rain, so it'll be a while 'fore we can get to your bike. But I'll bring her back to you, scout's honor.” 

Castiel offers a small nod in reply before following Dean out to his car. It's a black '67 Chevy Impala, and he can't stop his eyes from widening at just how _cool_ this guy is. More importantly, the car is impeccably well-kept. The exterior body has the shine of a fresh coat of wax, not a spot or a scratch to be found. Inside, the black leather seats are smooth, the carpets are clean, and it even smells nice. He feels himself relax as he starts to think that his bike is in good hands.

“I want to take you for coffee, Dean. It's the least I can do,” he says, turning to look at the green-eyed man in the driver's seat. The numb pink against his cheeks from the cold makes the countless freckles on his face stand out, and Cas is staring again even after he gets his answer. But his gaze isn't a problem, because his question earns him the same look from Dean and _did his eyes just flick down to my lips?_

“Yeah, Cas... yeah. That sounds real great,” Dean finally replies, offering a warm smile before starting the car. Zep starts coming through the speakers, almost too quiet to be heard over the rain, and Dean is humming along softly as he backs out of the lot. 

-

By the time they're done with coffee, and long after the coffee's actually gone, Dean has learned everything from what Castiel is majoring in, to what his family's like. Cas has learned the same, with the added knowledge that Dean is a complete and utter glutton. He started with his coffee and a hand pie, _because hell, this thing's like a turnover full of bacon and potatoes. Lord, take me now._ Then he peruses the dessert case and decides that he needs a sweet pie to top off his savory one. He settles for a chocolate bourbon pecan pie. And no, it's not too many flavors.

Blissfully sated, and tummy rubbed as necessary, Dean is finally taking his new friend home. He's almost taken aback by how big the guy's house is, but after hearing all about the people living inside, he knows that the size of a house could never make up for weak familial bonds. He's hardly paying attention as he shifts the stick into Park, but suddenly cold hands are cupping his face, and Cas is nearly climbing out of his seat as he presses a kiss to Dean's lips. 

He'd be damned if he turned down an opportunity like this. So he's turning in his seat, too, getting a better angle to deepen the kiss, and then Cas is licking his way into his mouth and his soft moans are stifled with the back of Cas' throat.

He's well out of breath by the time Castiel decides that it's time to pull away, a sly smile with spit-slick and chapped lips creeping onto his face. “I've been told to never stray from the path of righteousness. But I've been looking at you, and I think God would be disappointed if I didn't make out with you. See you tomorrow, Dean.” 

And he was right, because Dean did come the next day. And just about every day after that, too, under the guise that the bike still hadn't been fixed. The work had never been started. Neither of them minded, of course, and what was college if they weren't getting frisky in cars?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! As always, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated! Merry Christmas!


End file.
